


Hopefully tonight we'll find more

by witch_blades



Category: Machine Gun Kelly (Musician), Yungblud (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Colson is very sad, Crying, Dom helps the best he can, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 11:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_blades/pseuds/witch_blades
Summary: Colson is homesick.





	Hopefully tonight we'll find more

Colson felt homesick, and he had for years. Home had to be somewhere. Often he felt as if he’d never had one. Touring through cities, renting apartments, buying houses. None of them came near to filling that hole. Sometimes he wondered what home was supposed to feel like.

He hoped his daughter knew, hoped he’d provided not only the place, but the feeling. The feeling people describe, the warmth, the safety. The feeling that was entirely foreign to him.

Colson would sit on the bus, head in his hands. He would yearn for something he’d been deprived of. Something he deprived himself of. He tried not to cry, tried to get angry instead. It didn’t work, never worked. Punches aimed at no one always turned to being crumpled on the floor, still angry, but tears pouring. It was the tours, the lifestyle. No, it was his family, if he can even call them that. No, fuck that, it was him. He did this to himself.

This is how he felt constantly. He felt the sinking in his stomach every day, he felt like he’d wasted his chance to do anything beyond this. He had no chance of settling down. No matter how hard he tried, no one would stay. Something’s wrong, it always feels wrong.

Sometimes Dominic would come in and sink next to him on the couch as he struggled to hold back tears. He’d rest a hand on his back and sit in silence. He didn’t ask because he wouldn’t get an answer. Colson knew he could tell him if he wanted to. And so they’d sit together, and they’d say nothing, and the silence was deafening. Colson wanted to turn to his friend and cry, to be held by him and let everything out. But that’s not what people like him do. So he’d sit, quiet, and he’d let his mind run for miles. At some point Colson couldn’t do it anymore.

Dominic sat beside him, and Colson said nothing. Suffering. Suffocating. He broke. And he spilled everything. Nothing poetic about it, coming out in sobs. And Dominic listened, he didn’t try to fix it, he just listened. He put his arms around his friend and watched as he fell apart. He held him like he was trying to put him back together. He let him ramble, he let him cry; until he couldn’t do either any longer. And then he broke the silence.

“Home doesn’t have to be a place, Colson.”

He didn’t reply, he squeezed Dominic harder. Colson knew what he meant. He knew exactly what he meant because this comfort, this support, that’s what home was. In Dominic’s words, in his arms, he found home. He found the safety and warmth he’d been chasing his whole life. He wondered what home was for Dominic. Before he could ask, his questions were answered.

“I mean, hell, you feel like home to me.” And Colson sobbed harder, he squeezed tighter. He had spent so long looking for a place to call home. That was his mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> im going to be posting short fics for awhile because i have so many ideas for them. i have one really angsty fic idea that should be longer, and one fluff filled one. we'll see. hope you enjoyed.


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